The McHale Operation
by Sgt. Hakeswill
Summary: Major Bonacelli wants to do more to help the Allied war effort. Can Colonel Hogan help him to persuade Lt. Commander Quinton McHale to assist him in achieving that goal? 2016 winner of two Silver Papa Bear Awards for Best Crossover Story and for Visiting Crossover Character
1. The Idea

**Author's Note:**

_For those who might not remember, the 4th season of McHale's Navy took place in Italy, based in the fictional town of Voltafiore. Similarly, two episodes of Hogan's Heroes featured Italian Major Bonacelli, from the equally fictional town of Capizio. So, I thought to myself, why not do a McHale's Navy/Hogan's Heroes crossover? _

_This story is based on two episodes each from the two shows: "The Pizza Parlor" and "The Return of Major Bonacelli" from Hogan's Heroes, and "Guiseppe McHale" and "The Return of Guiseppe" from McHale's Navy. _

_Note that Guiseppe is McHale's maternal cousin and his surname is established as Maggiore on "The Return of Guiseppe"._

_This story takes place at some indeterminate time between "The Pizza Parlor" and "The Return of Major Bonacelli"._

_It's just a bit of fluff, so don't expect precise historical accuracy. I've purposely left the dates vague because I'd probably not have been able to write the story at all had I paid strict attention to the chronology of what happened during the Italian campaign. Hope you enjoy it, anyway._

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Major Aldo Bonacelli sighed as he stood at his office window looking out over the compound filled with Allied prisoners. Small groups of men in worn American and British uniforms clustered in the few shaded areas on the bare expanse of ground, trying to avoid the hot Italian sun, while others played a half-hearted game of volleyball.

Bonacelli had been the comandante of Capizio's POW camp for less than a year, but took no satisfaction from his job. Indeed,when he'd been sent to Germany the month before to be tutored in prison camp management at Stalag 13, he'd nearly succeeded in defecting to Switzerland.

He'd reluctantly changed his plans to desert after talking with Colonel Hogan, the senior prisoner of war at Stalag 13. Hogan's extensive operation, engaging in sabotage and the rescue of downed fliers had impressed the Italian major greatly. The American had been able to persuade him that spying and passing on information to the Allies would get the hated Germans out of Italy quicker, making it a better option than simply running away.

But, now, he wasn't satisfied with merely gathering intelligence and passing on the information. As he watched the prisoners, he thought of how the war in Italy could be shortened if these men could rejoin their own forces to resume fighting.

Sighing loudly, he knew there wasn't anything he could do to help the men already in his custody. He couldn't let them escape, nor could he help them to escape. His prime mission was to provide intelligence to the Allies and to do that, he had to retain his post as camp comandante at all costs. All other concerns, however worthy, had to take a back seat to that goal.

A moment later, the Italian major returned to his desk to attend to his daily paperwork. Within moments, he managed to push his unease to the back of his mind, at least for the time being.

About twenty minutes later, his aide stuck his head through the open doorway. "Excuse me, Comandante, but Guiseppe Maggiore would like to see you." After a pause, he added, "He has delivered this week's order of fish for the officers' mess."

"Send him in, Vasta," Bonacelli said, glad for the interruption. "Please serve us the usual refreshments."

"At once, Comandante."

"Buon giorno, Aldo!" Guiseppe Maggiore greeted, with a big smile on his face as he entered the room a moment later. Maggiore was a large, gregarious man who'd known Bonacelli since childhood, both having grown up together in San Lucca.

"Sit down, Guiseppe," Bonacelli invited, indicating a comfortable chair. "How are Teresa and the children? Well, I hope."

"Very well," Guiseppe replied. "Teresa sends her best wishes and Pietro and Angelina are growing like weeds!"

The two men continued to talk about mundane matters until the aide had served the refreshments and left the office, closing the door behind him.

Bonacelli paused for a long moment to listen carefully to make sure that Vasta was not lurking close by on the other side of the door. Once he was satisfied they would not be overheard, he asked, "So, do you have any new intelligence for me today, Guiseppe?"

Lowering his normally loud voice, Guiseppe said, "I was fishing north of Capizio, when I saw a long German tank column heading south. I wasn't able to get a very close look, but they also had several mounted 88 flak guns, too."

"When was this?" Bonacelli asked.

"Just before I came to deliver the fish to you." Pausing to take a sip of the espresso, he added, "By the time I was able to come ashore to get a closer look, they'd gone by, out of sight."

"That should be enough information to send to London," Bonacelli mused, getting up to go look out the window again. "You can tell some of the others to keep their eyes open for more information about it."

His voice drifted off as he watched the prisoners out in the courtyard once more, as frustrated as before. He only half-heard when Guiseppe began talking again.

"What is it, Aldo?" Guiseppe asked in concern. "I don't think you've heard a word I've said."

"I'm sorry," the major apologized. "Come, take a look out this window."

Curious, the larger man did as he was bid.

"What do you see out there?" Bonacelli asked.

"Men. Allied prisoners." Guiseppe replied. "Or am I supposed to notice something else?"

"Before you came this morning, I was looking out and it occurred to me just how many prisoners I have, men I can barely afford to feed. These are men who should be back behind their own lines, fighting to free Italy from the filthy Germans."

Sighing, he continued, "It is not enough that I pass on intelligence to the Allies. I wish I could be doing something to help those men out there to get back to their own forces."

"You cannot do that, Aldo," Guiseppe reminded him. "That is not what you were assigned to do. Me and my friends, we sneak around and gather the information you need and you report it to London. That is all they expect of us."

"We could at least try to help other downed fliers before the Germans can capture them; before they get to me." Returning to his desk, the major concluded, "But I wouldn't even know how to go about doing that without being caught by the Germans and risking our entire operation."

Guiseppe paced back and forth for a few moments pondering the matter. Suddenly, he stopped, exclaiming, "That's it! I think I have a way we can do it!"

"Tell me," Bonacelli demanded as he leaned closer, eager to hear the idea.

"My _cugino_, Quinton McHale, can help us get the men to safety!"

"McHale?" Bonacelli repeated, mystified. "That's not an Italian name."

"He's my American cousin," Guiseppe explained. "His mother was my father's sister. She married an American."

"I see," Bonacelli said, waiting for the other man to explain further.

"He is a commander of one of those American PT boats," Guiseppe elaborated. "His base is down in Voltafiore."

"That's only about ten miles or so south of San Lucca," Bonacelli said. "Do you think he would help us."

"I don't see why not," the other man said. "He's always up to one scheme or the other to get the things he wants done."

"It is worth a try," Bonacelli agreed. "I will tell London about our idea when I contact them tonight and see what they think of it."

"Good idea," Guiseppe agreed. "Do you think I should ask Quinton about it?"

"Wait until I talk to London, first," Bonacelli said. "We'll need their approval before we do anything. But I think I can get it - I know of a similar operation in Germany that they coordinate."

"When will you know?"

"Probably in a few days," Bonacelli guessed. "I should know by the time you deliver next week's fish order."

"I'll see you then, Aldo," Guiseppe said, standing to leave.


	2. Makling Plans

Later that night, Major Bonacelli carefully pushed the wardrobe cabinet in his quarters away from the wall. Underneath were a couple of loose boards, under which he'd hidden his short wave radio.

He quickly set up the radio, then noiselessly crept to the door to listen for a few moments to make sure no one was lurking outside. After a few moments, he was satisfied he was alone and returned to the set.

"Pizzeria to Mama Bear," Bonacelli said softly into the microphone. "Pizzeria to Mama Bear. Come in, please."

"This is Mama Bear. Go ahead, Pizzeria."

"I have tonight's report," he said, then gave the details of what Guiseppe Maggiore had told him earlier that day.

"Acknowledged, Pizzeria, " the female radio perator in London replied. "Is there anything else."

"Yes, Mama Bear," he said. "One of my underground informants and I have an idea on how to expand our operation."

"Hold one moment, Pizzeria," she said. "Colonel Wembley will need to hear this."

After a long pause, Mama Bear said, "Continue, Pizzeria."

Bonacelli quickly told them an abbreviated version of the idea to help downed Allied fliers to get back to their own lines, including the proposed inclusion of Quinton McHale in their operation.

"How did you come to choose this Commander McHale?" Wembley asked. "And have you spoken of this idea with him yet?"

"It is as I said," Bonacelli said patiently. "McHale is the cugino - cousin - of one of my men, whose mother married an American." Sighing, he continued, "We have not talked to Commander McHale yet. I wanted to speak to you first for your approval before proceeding."

"Ah, I understand now," Wembley said affably. "Please give us a day or so to make a decision. I'll need to discuss it with the group in a staff meeting and also need to research the feasibility of the idea."

"That's all I ask," the major said. "I will eagerly await your reply. Pizzeria out."

_/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/_

Two days later, it was Colonel Wembley himself who answered the radio when Bonacelli called Mama Bear.

"I have good news for you, Pizzeria," Colonel Wembley informed Bonacelli. "Your idea has been accepted and will be implemented in the near future."

"Wonderful!" Bonacelli said.

"We did a background check on Lt. Commander McHale, who speaks fluent Italian, which makes him an excellent candidate for the job. And it seems he has a penchant for accomplishing his goals using unorthodox methods." Wembley chuckled briefly, then continued,"Rather much like Papa Bear, as it turns out."

"It is too bad they cannot meet," the Italian major said. "They would probably enjoy swapping war stories."

"Oh, but they will!" Wembley told him, with a jovial chuckle. "We've chosen Papa Bear to go down to Voltafiore to officially present the idea to Commander McHale. He, of course, will have the option to accept or refuse the mission, but he must give his decision to an official representative of his own nationality. If Commander McHale accepts the mission, Papa Bear will remain for a short time in an advisory role."

"When will Papa Bear come to Italy?" Bonacelli asked.

"As soon as possible," Wembley replied. "We'll leave it up to the two of you to work out the specific details, but keep us apprised of whatever plans you make."

"Of course," Bonacelli agreed.

"Oh, one more thing," Wembley said. "A Colonel Harrigan is in charge of the military government in Commander McHale's area so, pending McHale's acceptance of the mission, we will be informing Colonel Harrigan of what is going on, but he will play no active role in the operation. McHale will coordinate his actions with you and report to us. We have also decided not to inform his immediate commanding officer, a Captain Binghamton, as his background check revealed him to be an unstable man, who also has an irrational hatred of Lt. Commander McHale. This makes him a security risk."

"Understood," Bonacelli said. "Pizzeria out."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Colonel Robert Hogan was puttering around down in the tunnels after evening roll call. He'd been advised by London of his role in the proposed McHale operation and that Major Bonacelli would soon be contacting him to work out the details.

Hogan was nursing a cup of ersatz coffee, while Newkirk and LeBeau were in the uniform room doing some routine repairs on the German uniforms they'd used in their last mission. Carter was conducting an inventory of supplies in his lab, while Kinch was monitoring the radio.

He looked in on all the men in turn and just as he was about to give up for the night and go back upstairs, Kinch called out to him.

"I've got Major Bonacelli on the radio, sir."

"It's about time," Hogan grumbled as he took the headphones from the sergeant.

"Papa Bear here."

"Good evening, Colonel," Bonacelli said. "Pardon the lateness of the hour, but I had to wait until I was sure I was alone for the night."

"Understood," Hogan replied.

"I trust that London gave you the basics of this mission and your part in it?"

"They did," Hogan affirmed. "You want to expand your role to helping downed fliers back to our lines before they can be captured and sent to your camp. And one of your men has proposed that his American cousin, who is a naval officer stationed to the south of you, be the one who takes these fliers to safety. My role is to present the mission to him and to act as short-term advisor if he accepts. Correct?"

"That's right," the Italian major replied. "One thing, though. How do you propose to get down here and be able to stay long enough without being missed at Stalag 13?"

"Give me a moment," Hogan told him, getting up from the radio to pace for a few moments, as Kinch idly watched.

Within moments, he snapped his fingers in inspiration and returned to the radio.

"I want you to contact Klink and invite him down to Capizio to spend a week or so visiting your camp," the American said. "Tell him you want to pay him back for the hospitality he showed you when you were here, or some similar nonsense that will appeal to his ego. I will hide in the luggage carrier on top of his staff car for the ride to Capizio. I've done it twice before when I was needed in Paris for certain missions."

"I'd rather fall on my own sword than spend that much time with that insufferable man," Bonacelli complained. "He will probably try to get me to eat German cooking again. It took my stomach a week to recover from the sauerbraten he forced on me when I was at Stalag 13." After a short pause, he quickly added, "But I will do it."

Hogan laughed in understanding, then said, "Is there anything else I need to know?"

"Do you speak Italian?" Bonacelli asked. "I'll have to stay in Capizio to distract Klink, so my man will be taking you to Voltafiore to meet with his cousin. The problem is that he does not speak English."

"No, I don't," Hogan said. "But I have an Italian-American man in my barracks that may speak the language."

"Ah, yes, the one who gave me his father's recipe for pizza?"

"That's the one," Hogan confirmed. "Give me a minute to ask him."

Motioning to Kinch, he said, "Go ask Garlotti if he speaks Italian. If he does, bring him back down here."

Kinch returned within moments. "Sorry, sir. He only knows a few words of Italian."

At that moment LeBeau came out from the sewing room. "You need someone who speaks Italian? I have an Italian grandmother and I've been speaking it since I was a boy."

"Excellent," Hogan said, motioning at him to stay put.

Returning to the radio, he told Bonacelli, "I have a man who speaks Italian."

"Bring him along, then, so you will be able to communicate with Guiseppe," the major said. "You and your man will be posing as Italian fishermen, so bring the appropriate clothing. I will call Klink tomorrow morning to extend the invitation, and will contact you tomorrow evening with any further details."

"Good luck with Klink," Hogan said, chuckling. "Papa Bear out."


	3. On the Way

Three days later, Sgt. James Kinchloe stood in Colonel Hogan's office as he watched him gather up the things he would be taking with him to Italy.

"Don't worry about anything back here while you're in Capizio," Kinch told Hogan, who was about ready to go. "I'll keep things under control while you're gone. We'll do the same things we did when you went to Paris to keep the Germans from noticing that you and LeBeau are gone. We have those two men down in the tunnel waiting to go out to meet the sub, so we can keep them here until you get back. They can pretend to be you and LeBeau and be too 'sick' in bed to stand for roll call."

"Sounds good," Hogan replied. "I'm not worried. I know you'll get the job done and keep the Germans off balance."

"That's the plan," Kinch affirmed.

"I'd better get LeBeau and get over to Klink's staff car," Hogan said as he opened the door to the main room. "I saw Schultz out there bringing out Klink's suitcases and we need to get up on the roof into the luggage carrier before Ol' Blood and Guts sees us."

"Good idea."

Minutes later, Hogan and LeBeau had crossed the compound, along with several other men, without attracting the notice of any guards. The men created a small diversion, so that the two men could get into the luggage carrier and get under the tarp unnoticed.

At that moment, Sgt. Schultz came out of the Kommandantur, loaded down with Klink's luggage. He was just in time to see them climb aboard.

Dropping the suitcases, he hurried over to the staff car. "Please do not tell me you are doing this again!" Schultz pleaded. "I am old. I have a bad heart. I do not think I can take going through this kind of monkey business yet again."

"Relax, Schultz," Hogan said casually. "Everything turned out OK before, right? Have some faith in us. Everything will be all right again, I promise."

"Yes," LeBeau put in. "If you keep quiet and mind your own business, I promise to make strudel for you every week for a month when we get back."

"All right," the older man conceded wearily. "I will see nothing, as usual. It is not as if anything I say will make you change your minds."

The Oberfeldwebel put the rest of Klink's suitcases into the luggage rack around the two men, then pulled the tarp over them just before Klink appeared, ready to leave.

Soon, they were off and the two men on top of the staff car settled themselves as best they could for the long journey, which would be over 700 miles.

Hogan knew that Schultz would make sufficient rest stops along the way, as he'd done when they'd gone to Paris, and would stop for the night at some point.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

That same day, Guiseppe Maggiore made his weekly fish delivery to the prisoner of war camp in Capizio. As usual, he was ushered into Major Bonacelli's office after making the delivery.

As soon as they were alone with their refreshments, the major got down to business.

"I have good news!" Bonacelli announced. "London approved our plans, including your idea to include your cousin."

"Wonderful!," the other man exclaimed. "When do we begin? I should go right away to tell Quinton about it."

"London wants an American to officially offer him the mission," Bonacelli explained. "In fact, he is on his way now from Germany."

"Germany?" Guiseppe was puzzled. "Would it not be easier for him to come straight from London? How will he get here through German held territory?"

"It's complicated," the major said, laughing. "I'd best let him tell you about his situation himself once he gets here." Pausing to take a sip of his drink, he continued, "Do you remember not long ago when I went to Germany to take a course in the German way of prison camp management at Stalag 13?"

"How could I forget?" Guiseppe said. "You did not stop complaining about the bad food for weeks after you got back!"

"Well, I invited the Kommandant for a visit and this American, along with another man who speaks Italian, are hitching a ride with him," Bonacelli explained. "I will keep Kommandant Klink busy here inspecting the camp, while you take these two men down to Voltafiore to speak to your cugino. They are on the way now and probably should be here tomorrow morning."

"He is working with you against his own people?" Guiseppe asked, incredulous.

"No, he knows nothing," the major told him. "The men stowed away on top of his car in the luggage rack under a tarp."

"I can't believe anyone could be so stupid as to not notice two men on top of his car."

"Believe me, Colonel Klink IS that stupid." Bonacelli chuckled as he remembered just how clueless Wilhelm Klink was. "When I was at Stalag 13, there was one guard who let a prisoner hold his gun while he played ball. When I pointed out to Klink that we don't let prisoners have guns here, the guard told us it was safe because the gun was not loaded! Klink didn't seem a bit surprised by this state of affairs."

Guiseppe laughed, then said, "But it is a good thing for us that he is stupid, no?"

"That is true," Bonacelli agreed. Changing the subject, he continued,"When they get here, I want you to take the two men with you right away to San Lucca. They will be posing as fisherman, so if you are stopped on the way to San Lucca or to Voltafiore, you will say they are part of your crew. You should have them stay with you at your home, until they are ready to go back with Klink to Germany."

"I understand," the other man said. "My Teresa will know to keep her mouth shut and the children will believe they are new members of my crew."

"I will give you some money to cover the expenses of feeding them," Bonacelli promised. "And the sooner you can get them down to Voltafiore to see your cousin, the better. Even though he is stupid, I will not be able to hold Klink here in Capizio indefinitely. Some vino and some pretty signorinas should give you enough time to get the job done, however. And I, at least, will be giving him food much better than the swill he fed me!"

"When should I come back here to get them?" the other man asked.

"Come back first thing tomorrow morning," the major told him. "They will stop to spend the night somewhere on the way, but it shouldn't take them all that long to get here once they get started again." A moment later, he added, "Bring some other kind of fish than what you usually bring and tell anyone who might ask that I asked you to bring it especially for me and my guest. Buy it from a fish market if you have to, but just have it when you come."

"I will have it," Guiseppe told him, rising to leave. "I will see you tomorrow, then."


	4. Hogan's Arrival

The next morning, Guiseppe Maggiore returned to the prison camp to deliver the special order of fish. After making the delivery, he came to Bonacelli's office for refreshments, just as if it was his normal weekly delivery.

"Colonel Klink called just a little while ago to let me know that he should arrive within the hour," Bonacelli told Guiseppe, as soon as the door had closed behind them. "What I want you to do when they get here is to get up to leave, but go outside and linger in a doorway, close to where I showed you where they will park. As soon as Vasta lets me know they're at the main gate, I'll go out to meet them. I'll divert Klink's attention while you hurry the men to where you've parked the truck by the kitchen. Once you have them inside the truck, leave by the service entrance as usual."

"Everything is in place," Guiseppe assured him. "I even have the cook in the kitchen bribed to look the other way. I always bring a little something for him when I make my fish deliveries, so he is happy to see things my way."

The men chatted about mundane matters for the next twenty minutes or so, as they waited for Klink and his stowaways to arrive.

Finally, Vasta tapped at the door, then came in to announce, "Colonel Klink's staff car just came in through the main gate."

"Thank you, Vasta," Bonacelli said, "I will go out to meet him."

Guiseppe rose from his seat as well. "I must be going, then, Aldo. I will see you soon."

The two men went out the front door of the building together. Guiseppe turned to the left and quickly made his way to the designated doorway to wait, just around the corner from where the German staff car would park. He would wait until he heard Bonacelli escort Klink inside the building.

Soon, he heard a slight squealing sound as the German car came to a halt.

"Welcome, Colonel Klink, to Capizio," Major Bonacelli greeted, as soon as Sgt Schultz had opened the car door for his commanding officer. "Please, come into my office, where my aide already has refreshments waiting. He will show you and your sergeant to your quarters later."

"Thank you, Major Bonacelli," Klink replied. "It has been a long journey and I could use something to drink." Before following the Italian major inside, he spared a quick glance at the camp compound and the barracks behind them, which were separated from the administrative buildings by a tall barbed wire fence. He was satisfied to see that the Italian prison camp did not appear to be as large as Stalag 13.

No sooner had the two men disappeared inside the building, than Guiseppe peered around the corner of the building. Two men, one tall and one short, threw the tarp back from the top of the car and carefully climbed down, seemingly oblivious to the German sergeant, who had remained by the car after the two officers had gone inside. The German had his back to Guiseppe, so he motioned urgently to the two men to follow him without delay.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Hogan and LeBeau wearily climbed down from their cramped hiding place after they heard Bonacelli invite Klink inside, then heard the heavy door close behind them.

He looked where Bonacelli told him his contact would be waiting and, sure enough, there was a heavy-set Italian man in a black turtleneck with brown belted trousers and a black watch cap, beckoning at them to hurry.

Schultz turned in time to see th exchange. Looking at Hogan, he said, "I see nothing! Shoo, shoo, go along with him now before someone ELSE sees you! I cannot help you if that happens!"

"Don't worry, Schultz," Hogan assured him. "We'll be back and under the tarp by the time Ol' Blood and Guts is ready to go back to Stalag 13. Try to relax and have a good time while you're here. At least you'll be eating well for a change!"

And, with that, the two prisoners scuttled quickly to where the man was impatiently waiting. They were now dressed similarly to him, which would help them not to be immediately noticed.

The Italian motioned for them to keep quiet and follow him.

Hogan and LeBeau obeyed wordlesslly, and the group slipped quietly down an alley. At the other end, a small delivery van with a fish logo painted on the side stood waiting.

At the back of the van Guiseppe unlocked the doors, then motioned the men inside. In a low volce he said, "There are some canvas sails in there. Cover yourselves with them until we get out of camp. We aren't going far, so you won't be in there long."

LeBeau nodded in understanding, then translated into English. Hogan gave the Italian a sign of acknowledgment, before they clambered inside to hide under the sails.

The two prisoners kept still and quiet as Guiseppe drove off, then slowed to a halt at the back gate. Fortunately, there was no search of the vehicle and they were soon waved through the gate and on their way.

Within a few miles, the truck stopped again. "It is all right," Guiseppe told them as he opened the doors in back. "You can come out now."

Hogan and LeBeau found themselves in another alley, close to the door of what Hogan's nose told him was a fish market.

"You two wait here while I return the keys to my friend, Bruno. I'll be right back, then we'll be on the way to my boat to go to San Lucca."

He returned a moment later, ready to move. "Let's get to the boat, then we'll talk a bit on the way to San Lucca. We're not far from the harbor."

Ten minutes later, the group was aboard a small fishing boat heading south. Once they were under way, Guiseppe introduced himself. "I am Guiseppe Maggiore, cugino of the man you are to meet, Quinton McHale."

"I am Louis LeBeau," the Frenchman replied. "And this is Colonel Robert Hogan who, unfortunately, doesn't speak a word of Italian."

"Pleased to meet you both!" Guiseppe said, smiling broadly at both men in turn. "It is good you both have dark hair, as it will help you blend in better and avoid attracting the attention of Germans."

"Yes, and our clothes," LeBeau agreed, laughing, then quickly translated for Hogan.

Hogan gave a brief smile to their host, but then returned to business, impatient to get on with it. Turning his attention to LeBeau, he said, "Ask him what the plan is and when we'll meet McHale."

Guiseppe smiled indulgently when LeBeau translated Hogan's questions. These Americans, always in such a hurry!

"Right now, we are going to my home in San Lucca, where you will be staying," he explained. "My Teresa will have a good, hot meal waiting when we get there."

LeBeau quickly translated, but when Hogan opened his mouth to talk, the Italian held up one hand to indicate he wasn't finished yet.

"We will take the boat down to Voltafiore tomorrow," he continued. "The reason we go tomorrow and not today is that I need to keep to my usual fishing routine and Tuesday is the day I head south to do my fishing."

"We understand," Hogan said, bowing to the inevitable, after LeBeau quickly translated. "LeBeau, here, is an excellent chef, but I'm guessing your wife is even better."

The Frenchman gave Hogan a look of mock indignation before translating, but dutifully repeated the words in Italian.

The trip south to San Lucca, was uneventful, without them encountering any German patrols, either in boats or on the shore. Guiseppe had instructed them on what to do if a German patrol boat did approach them but, fortunately, the precautions turned out not to be necessary.

Hogan relaxed somewhat, but remained watchful while trying to enjoy the boat ride. The three men chatted amiably during the trip, with Guiseppe telling them how him and Bonacelli had come up with the idea.

The trip to San Lucca was shorter than the two prisoners had expected. As they tied up at the pier, Guiseppe told them, "Relax, you are behind Allied lines now."

It was a short walk from the pier to the Maggiore home, where Signora Maggiore had a hot meal waiting.

"Welcome to our home gentlemen," Teresa Maggiore said in English. "I know you must be hungry."

"Oh, I'm so glad you speak English," Hogan told her with a genuine smile. "Your husband and LeBeau have been talking in Italian all the way down the coast and I've felt a bit left out."

"Ah, my Guiseppe is quite the talker," she replied, smiling back. "He never meets a stranger!" Turning to include LeBeau, she continued, "Let us eat and relax for now, before the children get home from school. You can get a good night's sleep here before going down to Voltafiore tomorrow."

"Thanks, we'd be delighted," Hogan said, lured by the inviting aroma of the food. "I think a good night's sleep is just what the doctor ordered."


	5. Meeting McHale

Early the next morning, Quinton McHale and his crew gratefully descended the stairs into the abandoned wine cellar that served as their quarters after a long, but uneventful night on patrol. Though weary from the extended hours of heightened alertness, he and the men were too keyed up to sleep. They would need a good meal and some time to wind down, before they'd be ready for a few hours of sack time.

Their Japanese POW cook, Fuji, was waiting as they reached the bottom of the stairs, with breakfast for them already on the table.

"You spot any Jerry subs last night, Skipper-san," Fuji asked.

"Not a one, Fuje," McHale replied with an unconcerned shrug. "Food smells great. Thanks for having it ready for us."

"Boy, I think I could eat a bear!" Ensign Parker exclaimed, making a beeline for the scrambled eggs, Italian sausage, and toast.

"You'll have to make do with Italian sausage, Parker-san," Fuji said, which elicited a chuckle from the men. "No bear here."

"Me and the guys need to finish that poker game that ol' Leadbottom interrupted when he sent us on that hokey patrol," Gruber put in as he filled his plate. "Shouldn't take too long."

"All right, you eight-balls," McHale replied in mock gruffness. "But don't be too long. You'll need your sleep just in case Binghamton pulls the same crap on us again today. There wasn't a Jerry ship or sub within 100 miles of where he sent us last night and he knows it. I wouldn't put it past him to send us on another wild goose chase again tonight."

After serving himself and taking his usual seat in the corner, McHale said, "Speaking of Leadbottom, someone needs to man the periscope. You never know when he'll turn up."

"I'll do it," Fuji volunteered. "I've already had a good night's sleep and my breakfast, too." About twenty minutes later, he reported, "Skipper-san, your cousin is up there with two men I've never seen before."

"Chuck," McHale said, "Go up there and see what's going on. Bring Guiseppe and his friends down there, if everything seems OK to you." Turning to Fuji, he added, "Better make yourself scarce until I can figure out what this visit is about."

"Right," Parker said, putting his now-empty plate on a side table. "Be back shortly."

Moments later, he emerged from the wine cellar to find Guiseppe milling around the tents with the two men. Parker also noticed Guiseppe's fishing boat tied up behind the PT-73.

"Heyyyy!" Parker greeted, at a loss, knowing Guiseppe did not speak English. He assumed that the two dark-haired men with him in civilian clothes were also Italians.

"'Allo!" Guiseppe called back, smiling broadly. He liked the good-natured, but clumsy ensign and was glad to see him.

Guiseppe said a few words in Italian, which LeBeau promptly translated, "He said that we are here to speak to his cousin, Commander McHale." Indicating Hogan, he continued, "I am Louis LeBeau and this is Colonel Hogan. He's been sent by Allied headquarters in London to speak with Commander McHale."

"Allied Headquarters? Wow!" the naive young ensign replied, obviously impressed. He saluted Hogan, after clumsily transferring the fork he still held to his other hand. "I'm Chuck Parker, Ensign Charles Parker."

Hogan returned the salute, then said, "Good to meet you, Ensign." He smiled inwardly, thinking of how much this man reminded him of Carter.

"The skipper's right down here," Parker said, pointing to the entrance to the wine cellar.

As the three men followed Parker, Hogan and LeBeau exchanged knowing glances when they passed a hollow tree stump with a periscope sticking out of it.

"Looks familiar," Hogan said, chuckling.

"Yes," LeBeau agreed. "Except that theirs is the real thing and not made out of an old tin can and a scrounged pipe."

As the group reached the bottom of the stairs, Hogan's eyes quickly surveyed the surroundings. Though surprised to see the ornate antique furnishings in the old stone cellar, which contrasted sharply with the the drab and drafty shabbiness of Barracks 2 back at Stalag 13, the room nevertheless had an odd familiarity to it. A group of enlisted men sat at a table at one end playing poker with their banter reminding him of Newkirk, Carter, and Kinch.

He spotted Quinton McHale right away, as the man looked to be almost an identical twin of his Italian cousin. After the two cousins conducted a short conversation in rapid Italian, Guiseppe gestured for Hogan to take over.

Taking his cue, Hogan walked over to McHale, extending his hand. "Hi, I'm Colonel Robert Hogan and I've been sent by Allied Headquarters in London with a proposed mission for you and your men." Indicating LeBeau, he added, "And this is Louis LeBeau, who is here to translate for Guiseeppe and I."

"Quinton McHale," the other man said, shaking Hogan's hand, then LeBeau's in turn. Gesturing to a sofa nearby, he added, "Have a seat."

After the three men complied, McHale continued, "I'm a bit confused here. Why me? How was I chosen? Why are you coming directly to me and not through the chain of command to my commanding officer, Captain Binghamton? Why are you dressed like an Italian fisherman?"

"I know it seems strange," Hogan said, chuckling. "But it will make more sense once I explain."

"Sounds like it will take awhile," McHale observed. Turning to his men, he said, "You guys go get some sack time and I'll fill you in on what you need to know later." Looking at one of the men, who wasn't much taller than LeBeau, he added, "Get these men some coffee before you go, Tink."

A short time later, after coffee was served, Hogan began, "I'll try to make it as brief as possible." Taking a sip of coffee, he continued, "Your cousin here is a boyhood friend with an Italian major, who is in command of a POW camp up in Capizio."

McHale nodded to let Hogan know he was paying attention.

"But Major Bonacelli is really working for our side," Hogan confided. "His role is that of gathering intelligence and passing it along by radio to London. Guiseppe and several others help the major with the gathering of that intelligence. Because they are boyhood friends, no one gets suspicious with Guiseppe's frequent visits to the POW camp."

"I see," McHale said, though his facial expression betrayed the fact that he still didn't understand how this involved him.

"Major Bonacelli wanted to do more for the Allied war effort than to simply gather and report intelligence, so he and Guiseppe came up with the idea of rescuing downed fliers before they could be captured," Hogan continued. "That's where you come in. Once rescued, the fliers will need to get back to Allied lines, and Guiseppe knew that bringing them down the coast in a fast PT boat would be much easier than trying to make the trip in a slow, unarmed fishing boat."

"I can see that," McHale said, chuckling. "But, still, why me personally and why didn't you go through the chain of command?"

"After Major Bonacelli presented the idea to London, they went over your record and found that you have the right qualifications for the job," Hogan explained. "You have a reputation for unorthodox solutions, thinking on your feet, adapting to suddenly changed situations, and you are fluent in several languages, including Italian. All this makes you the ideal choice." Chuckling softly, he continued, "And London also checked out your commanding officer's record. London considers Captain Binghamton to be paranoid and unstable; in other words, a security risk."

"That's ol' Leadbottom, all right!" Parker put in.

"Leadbottom," Hogan repeated. "Interesting nickname."

"You don't know the half of it," McHale said, shaking his head in mock horror. "But, go on."

"Most of this operation will be a clandestine one, with secrecy being of the utmost importance," Hogan said. "If you accept the mission, a Colonel Harrigan will be informed of what you're doing, but he won't be involved in the operation. His only role will be to cover your ass if there's some sort of a snafu."

"I see," McHale said, rubbing his chin. "Harrigan's not much better than Binghamton, but I suppose he can be trusted to keep a secret, especially if he knows he'll know something Binghamton doesn't."

Moving on, Hogan said, "Guiseppe and the others he works with in the Italian resistance, will assist downed fliers to safe houses to wait to be transported back to Allied lines. Though he'll be in touch with Major Bonacelli, the major won't be able to take an active role in that part of the operation, in order to not risk blowing his cover for his intelligence operation." Pausing to refill his coffee cup, he continued, "Your cousin will contact you by radio when it's time to make pickups. He's brought another radio for you, which I recommend you keep down here."

"Right," McHale said, beginning to warm to the idea. "I have another radio aboard the 73 and I'd need the right frequencies for that as well."

Glad to see that McHale seemed receptive, Hogan continued, "What I propose is that LeBeau and I stay here overnight, while Guiseppe returns to San Lucca. Tomorrow, we'll take a practice run on the 73 and pick Guiseppe up in San Lucca and you and he will choose pick up points along the coast between San Lucca and Capizio. I've already asked him to prepare maps of the best inlets and coves where you can hide from German patrols when necessary. You'll probably be able to outrun nearly anything you'd come across, anyway."

"Everything except an E-boat," McHale affirmed. "But we can handle them; we've dealt with them before."

"Good!" Putting down his coffee mug with an audible click, Hogan concluded, "So, do you think you want to accept this mission?"

"We'll give it a try," McHale said carefully.

"Tonight, I'll go over some things with you and give you a few tips that I learned from hard experience," Hogan said. "While the operation I run is of a larger scope and under different conditions that what you'll be doing, part of my operation is related to what you'll be doing."

"I want to hear why you came here dressed like an Italian fisherman," Parker remarked. "Seems it would have been easier just to wear your uniform. Or are you a spy?"

"It's a long story, Ensign," Hogan said, laughing. "Sit back and I'll give you the short version."


	6. A Test Run

After telling McHale and Parker the basics of the Stalag 13 operation, which explained why he was there in the first place and why they'd shown up incognito, Hogan left with Guiseppe and LeBeau to allow the 73 crew to get a few hours of sleep.

Guiseppe had suggested they go have lunch in Voltafiore, which would give Hogan a chance to look around.

Instead of walking the couple of miles from McHale's base to Voltafiore, the three men covered the short distance by water in Guiseppe's fishing boat. As he was tying up at the Voltafiore docks, LeBeau suggested to Hogan, "Maybe you'd better pretend to be a mute, like you did with Kinch in Paris."

Heaving a loud sigh, Hogan groused, "Why do I always have to be the mute?" Not waiting for LeBeau's response, he conceded, "I know you're right. I don't speak a word of Italian and if I speak English, there will be too many questions from the townspeople and any Navy personnel that might be nearby."

"Yes," the Frenchman agreed, glad that Hogan had not found his suggestion presumptuous. "We wouldn't want word getting back to old Deadbottom."

"That's Leadbottom," Hogan corrected, laughing.

LeBeau quickly repeated the conversation in Italian for Guiseppe's benefit.

Guiseppe laughed, then said, "I will point out this Leadbottom to you if we see him. He wears glasses and he often acts like an overgrown bambino."

A short time later, the three men were seated at an outside table of a restaurant in Voltafiore's town square. Local citizens, along with American military personnel, both Navy and Army, passed frequently on the street, as the square was the hub of activity in town.

Nothing out of the ordinary that was worth Hogan's attention was happening as they ate their spaghetti, so he was bored as he listened to LeBeau and Guiseppe chatting in Italian. He passed the time by paying particular attention to passing Italian women.

A few minutes later, Hogan's daydreaming was interrupted by a querulous nasal voice behind him.

"What are you doing here out of uniform, McHale? What, what, what?"

Hogan turned to see a short officer wearing glasses with thick black frames. Noting the four stripes on his shoulders, he concluded that this had to be the infamous "Leadbottom."

"Oh, this isn't Commander McHale, Captain Binghamton," a lieutenant standing close behind him said. "Don't you remember, sir? This is Guiseppe Maggiore, the Commander's cousin."

"I know who it is, Elroy!" Binghamton said irritably, as he shook off the hovering underling. "I was just testing you."

"Of course, sir," the aide said obsequiously, looking miserable.

Hogan and LeBeau exchanged knowing glances. Binghamton was everything McHale had said he was and they now had an idea why London had chosen to keep this man out of the loop.

"Igor is right, sir," LeBeau offered. "This is Signor Maggiore." Indicating Hogan, he added, "We are his crew on his fishing boat."

"Igor?" Lt. Carpenter huffed. "My name is Lt. Elroy Carpenter, not Igor!"

"My apologies," LeBeau said. "It is just that you look just like a Russian named Igor I once met. You could be his twin." The Frenchman gave a sideways look at Hogan, who nodded in agreement. (1)

"I don't think so," Carpenter said haughtily. Turning to Binghamton, he said, "Sir, we need to get a move on if we're going to meet the general on time."

"That's right, Elroy," Binghamton agreed. "And if we're late, I'll tell the general it was all your fault for stopping to talk to these men!"

"Yes, sir. My fault." And with that, the two men hurried off, with Carpenter still murmuring obseqious phrases to mollify Binghamton.

After the two were out of earshot, Guiseppe and the two men from Stalag 13 burst into laughter. How such a man had become a captain, let alone been given a command was anyone's guess. The three men left the cafe a short time later after having seconds on their spaghetti.

"I must go home and get the maps ready that my cousin will need," Guiseppe explained. "I will take you back to Quinton's base now, but make sure to watch out for Binghamton, as you never know when he'll come spying on my cousin and his men. Don't let him see you if he does turn up."

"Gotcha," Hogan said laconically after LeBeau had translated. "We know all about being inconspicuous."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Early the next morning, Hogan and LeBeau boarded the PT-73 along with McHale and his crew. Though McHale called his men "Eight-balls" and "Schlockmeisters", Hogan could tell he had the same respect from his crew and a good working relationship with them as he did with his men back at Stalag 13. The previous evening he'd spent with the crew of the 73 had made that quite clear.

"So, what will you tell Binghamton later if he comes looking for you at the base and finds you gone?" Hogan asked.

"It's easy enough to tell him we were just on a routine patrol," McHale answered. "Binghamton never believes anything I say, but there's no way he can prove otherwise." Pointing at Radioman Willy Moss, he added, "And if he tries to get us by radio, I'll just say that it was on the fritz and Willy worked aaaalllll afternoon to get it going again."

"Sounds about like how I handle Colonel Klink," Hogan replied, chuckling. "I never thought I'd ever say this, but from what little I saw of him yesterday, Binghamton is much more obnoxious than Klink could ever think of being. But I think our local, friendly Gestapo agent, Major Hochstetter could give your Leadbottom a run for his money."

"That I'd like to see!" McHale replied, as the PT-73 pulled away from the dock and got under way.

A few minutes later, Hogan asked, "Do you engage the Krauts very often?"

"Not too much, especially this far south" McHale replied. "Sometimes, an E-boat will sneak in, trying to scavenge for supplies, but we can handle them without too much trouble." (2)

"What kind of missions do you normally go on?" Hogan asked, just making conversation.

"We patrol the bays and coves for lurking U-boats and do our best to keep the coastal shipping lanes clear for our own ships," McHale explained. "We harass German shipping as we encounter them, sinking them if we can. We can outrun nearly any ship, save for the E-boats." After a pause, he continued, "We've also been known to take down low-flying planes now and then, too."

Pointing at Parker, who was steering the 73, he laughed and said, "Back on Taratupa, before we came to Italy, Chuck, here, took down a Japanese bomber when under the influence of laughing gas." (3)

"Laughing gas?" Hogan was baffled.

"Don't ask," McHale said, grinning. "It would take too long to tell the story."

The two men continued to share anecdotes for the rest of the trip and, sooner than Hogan expected, the PT-73 eased up to the docks at San Lucca, where Guiseppe stood waiting for them, armed with several maps in one hand and a large basket in the other.

McHale's cousin came aboard with no hesitation after Tinker had thrown down the gangplank for him. Handing the basket to LeBeau, he explained, "My Teresa made lunch for everyone."

After the three officers had helped themselves from the basket, Guiseppe went below with them to show them the maps as they ate. LeBeau remained on deck to distribute the rest of the food to the crew.

"Here are the maps you'll need to help you avoid the Germans," Guiseppe explained to his cousin as he spread a large, rather detailed map on the table. "I've marked the bays, coves, and inlets I've found most useful in avoiding German patrols when I've spotted them while out fishing." Pointing to where he'd marked several areas with a red X, he continued, "Today, we'll visit the areas I've marked, so I can show you the best passages through them. This will help you to avoid sand bars and other obstacles."

"Sounds good," McHale said after he'd translated for Hogan. "Let's go do a test run now, and look at those marked areas, so we won't have to hunt for them if we ever have Jerries on our tail." Turning to Parker, he added, "Chuck, go tell the men to prepare to get under way."

Within moments, they were on their way once again, heading north to German-held territory. The trip was uneventful; the PT-73 did not meet any Germans along the way.

Guiseppe directed them to two sheltered inlets, which he proposed as rendezvous points to pick up the downed fliers he and his men would bring to be transported to Allied lines.

"Looks like two good spots," McHale remarked, as they entered the second inlet. "Both inlets would be kind of hard to spot, unless you knew just what to look for."

"With any luck, the Krauts won't even notice them," Hogan agreed. "And there's sufficient brush and cover for the pick-up points, too, which makes them each a good place to wait, along with places to hide should a Kraut patrol come sniffing around."

"I'm satisfied," McHale said. "It should work. But we were lucky today not to run into any Germans on the way up here, but I saw plenty of places to hide, if necessary."

"One of my men lives in this area," Guiseppe told him. "He has a radio and will be able to watch the coast and advise you of Germans in the area."

"Good," McHale said. "That will help." Turning to Hogan, he said, "Is there anything else you want to add that hasn't been mentioned?"

"No, I think your cousin has it covered quite well," Hogan replied. "From the things you told me last night about how you're able to fool Binghamton to get things done and of the encounters you've had with the Germans since you've been here, I think you and your crew will handle yourselves well." Turning to Guiseppe, he added, "And your cousin has been working in the underground since the beginning of the war, so his end will be more than adequately covered. Between the two of you, I am confident that it will be a successful operation."

"Thanks," McHale said. "I've got good men and we'll get the job done."

* * *

Epilogue

Two days later, Hogan and LeBeau returned to Stalag 13 without Klink being any the wiser, much to the relief of Sgt. Schultz.

McHale and his men picked up the first two downed fliers a week after their dry run. There was a close call as they evaded a German U-boat, but the mission was successfully completed without injuries or damage to the 73.

They completed several more missions with the assistance of Guiseppe and his underground group before the Germans were driven out of Italy. The operation was a complete success, as they did not lose a single man. Nor did Captain Binghamton ever become aware of the operation , though he constantly tried his best to nail them for _something; _anything he could make stick. In all, the PT-73 and its crew rescued eighty fliers before the war's end, as well as carrying out their normal duties.

After the war, Guiseppe Maggiore returned to the quiet family life he'd had before the war, just a simple fisherman once more.

As for Major Bonacelli, things did not turn out quite so well for him. Two months after the McHale operation began, his cover as an intelligence operative was blown when his aide, Vasta, discovered his secret radio. The Major had to flee for his life, without being able to contact Guiseppe or McHale to rescue him. Instead of fleeing south, where the Germans were looking for him, he went north and eventually ended up back at Stalag 13, where Hogan was able to get him to England, where he rode out the rest of the war.

End

* * *

_Author's Notes: _

_1\. Bob Hastings, who played Lt. Elroy Carpenter on McHale's Navy, also appeared as Russian pilot, Igor Piotkin on the Hogan's Heroes episodes, "A Russian is Coming" - episode 3-12_

_2\. The German E-boat corresponded to the American PT boat_

_3\. From the McHale's Navy episode, "Laugh, Captain, Laugh", 3-06_


End file.
